


Crossroads

by kristen999



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected letter from the Navy has Steve pondering his future and Danny grappling with how to fix everything broken all around them. Spoilers for 5.04 and 5.07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> ***  
> I was a slow writer, so this story takes place during early season 5 and before the siege at the barbershop. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my wonderful betas Esteefee and Amy. You guys are the best.

***

Danny tapped away at the magic table, going over crime scene photos from a cold case. He could’ve worked the things from the comfort of his office, but he'd been antsy of late, and sitting around for hours had lost its appeal. The criminals of Hawaii had been taking it easy for a few days. And this should have been a balm to his soul. But it wasn’t. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at a certain office a few feet away, trying to ignore the voice in his head urging him to go over there despite the fact that Steve was just sitting there quietly doing paperwork.

For the third day in a row. 

Danny blew out a breath and tried to focus on the report in front of him, trying to remember why he’d dragged it out for review in the first place.

A cold case. Kidnapping, homicide. The dead body had been burned and they still had no suspects or motive. The spouse of the deceased called once a month, always on the 5th, to see if there'd been any new leads. Tomorrow. He'd just forced away the self -analysis when a stocky naval officer wandered inside, his eyes scanning the various offices until he spotted Steve's door. 

After bomb scares, hostage situations, and several attempts to take over the building, security at HPD was tighter than Fort Knox. Only those with the proper credentials were allowed inside.

Danny walked around the surface table. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The officer looked at him. “I need to deliver something to Commander McGarrett.”

Danny hadn't even noticed the letter in the man's hand. “I can sign for it.” 

“Sorry sir, I need Commander McGarrett's signature.”

Danny wasn’t in the mood to deal with the military’s need to regulate every single task known to man. He checked the insignia on the man's lapel. “Look, Lieutenant. What's so important?” He couldn't remember if Steve had requested something for a case.

“I don't know, sir. I have special instructions to get a signature from the recipient or I'll have to redeliver. Until I do. Those are my orders.”

Curious, Danny glanced down at the thick white envelope, eyebrows rising at the return address. _From The Secretary of the Navy._

He felt his stomach drop. In his recent experience, nothing good ever came from Steve and his interactions with the military. 

The lieutenant gave him a weary look. It was then Danny realized he’d been glowering at the officer. He quickly moved out of the way and the officer went toward Steve's office. Danny followed and stood in the doorway while Steve scrawled his name on the pad. The LT nodded his thanks and retreated afterward. Steve studied the envelope, his lips slowly thinning into a scowl.

It was awkward trying not to just stand there while Steve carefully sliced open the envelope with a brass letter opener instead of ripping it with his fingers, the careful consideration underscoring its obvious importance. Danny felt a sick sense of dread.

Steve's eyes darted across the page with his usual rapt attention, his face betraying little except for the way his fingers tightened around the paper, crinkling it.

“Everything okay?” Danny asked when he was unable to remain silent any longer. 

Steve folded up the letter, opened his desk drawer and shoved it inside. “Everything’s fine.”

“You sure? Because most people don't sport a thousand yard stare after reading a piece of paper.”

Steve pulled out his keys and actually locked the drawer. “You want to get lunch?”

Not really. Danny wanted to know what was in a letter that made Steve feel the need to secure it under lock and key. He felt his temper flaring, his need to yell hampered by the look in Steve's eyes, an expression that secretly begged for Danny to back off, to let things go. 

Steve had only been back on full duty less than two weeks since he'd been abducted and tortured by Wo Fat. And Danny was willing to give Steve more time than normal after what they could finally call their last encounter with that evil bastard, the fallout of which was still immeasurable.

But how much time, Danny wasn't sure. 

***

 

It was Sunday and there was a breeze in the air—the perfect temperature for shorts and flip-flops. Danny would have preferred to lounge on his sofa watching the game, but instead he was parking the Camaro in Steve's driveway with a six-pack and a craving for pizza.

But Steve wasn't inside, and considering his truck was parked out front, that left the garage or the lanai. Using his McGarrett radar, Danny headed toward the garage, and found his partner studying the passenger-side front window of the Marquis. 

“Hey,” Danny greeted.

Steve turned around with part of a wiper in his hand, his white tank top smeared with grease and dirt. It was a little distracting. 

“Hey,” Steve said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“With beer?”

“Maybe.”

It was obvious Danny hadn't just stopped by, but he couldn't really explain why he felt the need to come over. Call it instinct or some kind of strange pull after the last few months of his and Steve's mutual nightmares. He wondered if they shared the same number of sleepless nights countered by coffee and will power. They'd both perfected the art of feigning normalcy. 

Steve used the inside of his elbow to wipe at his sweaty forehead. “I could use something cold.”

Danny obliged by handing over a Longboard, and Steve pulled out a pocketknife to pop off the top with the opener. 

Danny used his key chain to open his drink, his gaze drawn to the ragged area of pink skin across the tattoo of Steve's bicep. He took a long sip of his beer, trying to ignore the flicker of anger and regret it caused. “Have you had that looked at lately?”

Steve lifted up his arm and studied the scar. “Not yet. I had the stitches taken out last week, but I have to wait for the skin to finish healing before I can have an artist give it a go.” His eyes remained fixed on the fading injury. “I'm sure a touch up will cover most of it.” 

But not everything could be as easily fixed with a layer of new ink. Danny finished half his beer while trying not to look at a similar fading mark on Steve's temple, knowing only centimeters had separated Steve from a hole in the ground. 

Danny waved at the car. “And what about this hunk of metal?”

Steve ignored the jab as he ran a hand over the smooth glass. “I replaced the windshield, but they sent me the wrong windshield wipers.”

“Did you go on eBay again? Because didn't we have this conversation before about ordering parts online?”

“I didn't go online,” Steve growled, irritated. “I'm still waiting on a local guy who might have a lead on a replacement for the driver side window.”

Danny wondered if the Marquis could ever be fully repaired, if Steve knew what part of his life he was really trying to fix. Sometimes Danny wished the car could be scrapped so it wouldn’t always be a constant reminder of Steve's guilt.

Steve finished his beer, dumping the bottle inside a large recycling trashcan. “Come on, let's finish the rest inside.”

Grabbing the six-pack, Danny followed Steve into the house. “And since I'm prepared, I have a coupon for two large pizzas with the works.”

“So you happened to just stop by with beer _and_ coupons for dinner?”

“I knew you needed to be rescued from a Sunday spent banging away in your garage.”

There was a long stretch of silence, because Danny still couldn't articulate why he needed to be here. He was flying by his gut, trusting it even though his emotions were muddled by his own raw grief. He'd noticed he was prone to even more unpredictable outbursts than usual. Sometimes it was impossible to separate his worry over Steve from his own feelings. He couldn't keep one door closed tight while the other one was broken at the hinge. 

“I'll hit the shower while you call it in. No anchovies,” Steve said, pointing a finger.

“And when was the last time you've seen me order tiny little fishes on a pizza?”

Steve lingered on the stairs for longer than needed with a warm, tender expression. “Thanks for coming over.”

Danny returned the smile, taking in the moment. “Anytime, man.”

***

Ordering dinner didn’t take long, and Danny was wandering toward the sofa when he noticed boxes scattered all around Steve's office. It was like a giant bomb of disorder among the neat and organized area of the house. It might as well be a neon sign. 

With a quick glance toward the stairs, he walked up to the boxes, toeing one aside with his shoe. It was filled with VHS tapes. “Not what I was expecting,” he muttered. 

On the one hand, this was Steve's stuff, most probably family items given the age. On the other hand, everything _was_ in plain view. But this was Steve, and privacy was a sacred cow. Danny debated the pros and cons of taking a quick look when he noticed a photo album on the desk. It was opened to a picture of Steve dressed in cadet dress whites, with lean lines and hair shorn close. He couldn't have been more than eighteen and was lacking the boyish look of most guys at that age. It made Danny's heart hurt at how fast Steve had been forced to grow up. 

Danny flipped the page to another photograph, this one of Steve a few years older in a blue Navy shirt, sporting about twenty pounds of extra muscle, and a newbie SEAL stare.

“Hey.”

Danny didn't jump at Steve's voice, but he was annoyed at himself for being caught snooping. “Did you decide to do some spring cleaning?”

Steve had changed into his high school T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, his hair wet and slightly spiky. He walked toward the desk like it was a minefield. “I was looking for some videos to see if they'd been stolen. The ones Wo Fat used when....” 

It'd been the first time Steve had mentioned anything about his abduction since his statements after that horrible nightmare. He picked up one of the photos, staring at it like it was a picture of a stranger. “Then I came across these.”

Danny clenched his jaw at the quick change of subject, knowing Steve would shut him down if he tried to get him to talk more about the kidnapping. “Were those yours or your dad's?”

“My dad's. I didn’t know he had them.”

“Most fathers save pictures of important times of their kid's lives.”

Pain flickered across Steve's face; it was an all-too-familiar expression when it came to his father. But Danny thought there was something more. He watched Steve's eyes as they flicked to the floor, seemingly lost in thought. Then Steve's gaze slowly drifted toward a very large wheeled duffel bag sitting in the corner. 

Danny scrutinized the luggage; there was no way Steve would go AWOL again without telling him. “Are you planning a trip?”

“No, that's my sea bag.”

“Your sea bag?” Danny snorted. “Does it float?”

“It's like an army foot locker, but it’s easier to transport.”

Danny did not like the sound of that at all, his thoughts drifting to the Navy letter from the other day. “But you said you weren't going anywhere.”

“I'm not Danny.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “It's just storage from my time in the Navy.”

“So you were just going for a stroll down memory lane?”

“Something like that.”

Danny sucked on his bottom lip because Steve never _just happened_ to dig into his past, unpacking family VHS tapes and stuff from his SEAL days, unless it was another clue to the never-ending McGarrett family drama of spy games. It was sadly ironic that Steve no longer worked as a weapon for the CIA while his mother had returned to the same agency halfway across the world. 

Danny flipped through a couple pages of the photo album, stopping at the last two, with what looked like pictures of Steve in-country, most of his face covered by a beard and aviator glasses. Two members of his team flanked him, his mouth twisted in a grin as if responding to a joke. Maybe the pictures weren't all John McGarrett's. 

Steve grabbed the other end of the photo album, preventing Danny from digging through it any further. “I think I hear the pizza guy's car driving up.”

Danny didn't hear anything until a few seconds later, the sound of an engine becoming clearer as Steve made his way toward the door and escaped anymore of Danny's questions. 

 

***

Days when Steve spent hours at the governor’s beck and call were usually peaceful, low stress times to cherish, but it felt like a convenient excuse for Steve to avoid him in the morning, a continuation of Steve's monosyllabic small-talk after the pizza had arrived last night. It wasn't like he expected Steve to throw himself on the sofa to discuss his current emotional well-being. All he wanted was for Steve to talk to him about what was going on inside that head of his. Danny wanted to help.

He grabbed the bag of malasadas off his desk, brushing the powder off his shirt when the phone rang. Danny eyed it balefully. 

“Danny Williams,” he answered. 

_“Detective Williams, this is Petty Officer Mason, press secretary to Rear Admiral Johnson.”_

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “What can I do for you, Petty Officer?”

_“I'm calling to find out if Commander McGarrett is on sick leave?”_

“Sick leave?”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Was Danny supposed to be covering for Steve? How the hell was he supposed adlib when he didn't know the nature of the subterfuge?

_“Detective Williams?”_

“Um,” Danny stalled. “In what is this in regards to?” 

_“It's in regards to whether or not Commander McGarrett has been on sick leave, sir.”_

Okay, this guy was directly to the point. “Yes, he was on sick leave.” 

_“And what were the dates of the Commander’s absence?”_

Danny drummed his fingers on his desk. Steve had been on leave during his recovery. 

_“Has Commander McGarrett returned to duty?”_ PO Mason asked, forging ahead when Danny wasn't quick with the answers. 

“Yes, he has. Is there a reason why you're --?”

_“Thank you for your time, Detective Williams.”_

The call ended before Danny could finish his question and he was left holding the phone halfway to his face. What the hell had that been all about, and why was Steve dodging the Navy to the point they were calling _Danny_ to verify Steve's whereabouts the last few weeks?

***

Three hours after the call from the Navy, PO Mason appeared and patiently waited outside of Steve's office without explaining his reasons for being there. But Danny had a few guesses and none of them were cheerful thoughts. 

“You know that guy is in the Navy and not a guard at Buckingham Palace?” Chin asked.

“Could have fooled me. They're both as forthcoming as planks of wood.”

“You think Steve's in trouble with the Navy?”

“I thought of that, but this schmoe's not an MP.” Danny had endured the unpleasant company of a couple of those guys for way too many hours. 

“Official business then.”

Danny stewed over Chin's words. “He's been with Five-O for over four years, why would they want him back?”

“You think he's being recalled?”

“Maybe? It doesn’t make sense. I mean, there are other SEALs. Why would they want Steve?”

“Hey.” Chin grabbed Danny by the shoulder, grounding him. He stepped closer, blocking the view of the office. “We don't know they want him for a mission. It could be follow-up on something or...”

“Or?”

“If it was for national security or some covert thing, I doubt they'd be polite enough to make phone calls. They'd knock down his front door.”

Danny nodded. That made sense, but it still didn't explain the letter, or why Steve wouldn't talk about his reasons for dodging something that had always been an important part of his life. Or course, Steve didn’t talk much about anything that weighed him down unless under threat of death. 

It was a never-ending struggle, one Danny would maybe grapple with again as he watched Steve walk inside, his eyes darting toward the officer waiting for him. PO Mason straightened to attention upon Steve's arrival, the two of them disappearing into the office together.

“I should bug it,” Danny muttered.

Chin crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I think Steve would find it.”

“Not if you hid it.”

Danny considered his options when Kono came out of her office, looking frenzied. “Get the boss. We just got a lead on the Iona case. That shipment of heroin is coming in today.”

 

***

Danny huddled behind a shipping container as four guys with AK 47's targeted his position, bullets ricocheting around him. Chin and Kono returned fire from a container ten feet away, but they were outgunned by at least six more guys. Heavy firepower rained all around; it was deafening.

“We are in serious trouble here!” Danny shouted at Steve who crouched beside him. 

“Iona must've been tipped off we were coming,” Steve yelled between ragged breaths, bullets impacting near his head.

“Ya think?” Danny growled. 

Steve peered up and scanned the situation, biting at his lip. Danny recognized that expression, the one that lead to snap decisions and reckless actions. 

Steve unclipped a grenade from his vest. It'd been months since Steve had brought such heavy ordnance, and damn it, Danny knew exactly what was coming next. 

“I'm going to need some cover fire,” Steve shouted over the continued assault.

It wasn't up for a debate; it never was. Kono and Chin gave a quick nod. Grover grumbled, but nodded as well. Danny took a deep breath, readying for hell on earth. Then all three of them laid down cover fire as Steve moved out in the open, exposing himself to almost a dozen crazy, gun-toting drug runners. It sent Danny's heart rate through the roof as he squeezed the trigger, trying to give Steve every possible second. 

Even though Danny felt prepared for what might happen next, his brain reacted instinctively, his body flinching at the first explosion, breath catching in his throat at the resulting shock wave. 

Damn it to hell! He swore if they made it through this. _Again._ Danny was going to kick Steve's ass for subjecting him to this kind of stress for the hundredth time.

***

He held it inside during the gun battle, during those agonizing seconds when he thought Steve was a dead man, when all of them had used up their last lives, bullets and explosions as a backdrop to life and death. 

Despite the fact he insisted on driving his own car back alone, all the hair along Danny's arms were standing up as he rode the waves of adrenaline still in his system. Even after storming inside HQ, he could punch a wall or run a marathon from all the pent up energy flooding his veins. The fact he was too keyed up to say a word to the object of his quarry was proof enough of his anger.

Danny strode inside HQ, passing those members of the Iona gang who were awaiting booking or interrogation; the remainder, of course, were in the ER. What Danny did not expect was the older guy sitting in Steve's office while Duke quietly waited.

There was something familiar about the visitor. He was at least eighty if not older, with a cane that he tapped lightly against his leg. When he saw Danny, he gingerly stood up, his eyes peering at him from beneath a Navy cap. 

Steve finally appeared, striding inside and stopped beside Danny, clearly surprised. “Boats?”

The elderly man walked toward Steve with purpose. “Yeah, kid. I'm here because I have a bone to pick with you.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at the stern paternal tone. 

“You know, we just wrapped up a major case,” Steve said, sounding weary. “This isn’t exactly a good time --”

“I'm eighty-nine years old; I don't exactly have a lot of that.”

Danny cleared his throat as he searched his memory for the person standing beside him. He snapped his fingers. “You were the tour operator on the...”

“ _U.S.S_ Missouri. Name's Ed McKay. Boatswain's Mate, First Class, retired.” It was an introduction he'd obviously practiced verbatim.

It all came flooding back to Danny. “Yeah, the hostage case with the SEAL.”

Danny didn't know that the man and Steve had kept in touch. Steve had lost his father and never knew his grandfather; it wasn't surprising he'd gravitate to the WWII vet. 

McKay snorted. “And you're the partner he wouldn't stop yapping with on the phone.” Boy, they didn’t make guys like this anymore, all piss and vinegar. McKay glanced backed over at Steve and huffed. “They're gonna pin a star on you, son—why the hell are you making it so damn difficult?”

Steve went stony faced. “Look, can we talk about this later? How about lunch tomorrow?”

“Are you going to cancel it like you've done with the boys at the yard?”

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asked, stepping closer. 

“Are you kidding me?” McKay laughed, eyebrows arched. “It's the scuttlebutt at Pearl.”

“Excuse me. Um, could you back up a second?” Danny waved his hand back and forth between them. “What star?”

“It's nothing, Danny.”

McKay looked like he'd just choked on something. “It's not nothing,” he snapped. “Don’t ever say that. This isn't a prize at the bottom of a crackerjack box.”

Steve didn't say a word, remaining stoically quiet. 

“You're a decorated sailor.” McKay slowly straightened his aging body to full height. “You know as well as anyone that the Navy's only awarded a hundred silver stars in the last six years.”

Steve bit his lip, held his head high, still Mr. Silent. McKay sighed, limping closer, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. “Let them have the ceremony, Commander.”

“I don't want one.” Steve was in full stubborn mode.

Danny cleared his throat. “You know this kind of sounds important.”

“Danny...”

“Steve,” Danny implored. Because really. He wasn't in the military, but he knew a silver star was big freaking deal. They threw hometown parades for such things.

It was an impasse. Duke had disappeared, McKay was offended at Steve's attitude and Steve was emotionally closed off and uncompromising. 

Poor Chin walked over cautiously, obviously feeling the tension. “We've got one of Iona's top guys ready for questioning.”

It was an instant means of escape. 

“I've got to go.” Steve glanced from McKay to Danny. “Both of us.”

Danny couldn't believe his ears. “Are you seriously—?”

“Now, Danny.”

“Excuse me? Who died and made you --”

“Benevolent dictatorship, remember?”

“And that's worked so well for you in the past. Now this gentleman has asked you a question, and I think you should do him the courtesy of answering him in a polite, reasonable tone, which I know you find challenging, but try to dig deep, huh?”

But Steve stood there, simmering. It was obvious he was trying to lock everything inside again as he stared past Danny's head, past Chin and Kono, who had quietly watched from a few feet away. Even Grover had kept a respectful distance, but they were a team, and they remained.

“Commander,” McKay said quietly, eyes softening as if realizing a sad, truth. “You deserve the honor. If this is some sort of guilt...”

“It's not guilt...it's...” Steve swallowed, looking at the floor with his jaw clenched tight. He shook his head. 

McKay looked at Steve like he wanted to fix whatever was hurting him. Danny felt the same way. 

“Steve, man,” Grover spoke. “I can't imagine the pain --”

“It's not that, it's...” Steve struggled for words, not looking anyone in the eye, seemingly lost in his struggle. He cleared his throat and rubbing at his temple with the heel of his hand. “It's just...I'm not ready to...”

Danny looked at Steve in confusion and saw the same reflected in McKay's. 

“Commander, you've been awarded before.”

Steve actually stared at McKay in wounded disbelief. “Don't you know what this is?”

“No, son. I don't.”

“My twenty is up next month. This is...this is the bait and switch.”

McKay's face fell and he shook his head vehemently. “Oh, Commander.”

“What?” Kono asked concerned. 

She and Chin moved in unison, creating a semi-circle with Danny and Grover. Steve still fought his words, trying to pull back into his internal armor despite all the reinforcements around him. 

Chin got a knowing expression that mirrored McKay's. “You think they're going to ask you to retire.”

It clicked for Danny. The walks down memory lane, Steve's moodiness. The military was no different than unions. Hit twenty and it's time to go. Steve was no longer an active SEAL. Hadn’t been in four years. Nothing felt as crappy as being discarded after a lifetime of dedication. 

And Steve had been abandoned by so many. 

Steve held himself rigid after his momentary display of vulnerability. “It's happened before. Receive a medal followed by your walking papers.”

“Except you know very well it can take four to six years to review any recommendation for a silver star,” McKay said in fierce determination. “The timing's coincidence.”

Steve didn't seem convinced, and Danny really wanted to take away such self-doubt. “Have you asked anyone?”

The blank expression on Steve's face answered everything.

“Of course you didn't,” Danny grumbled. 

“It's not like they'd be forthcoming,” Steve bit back. 

“Or maybe, given the fact the Navy is a gigantic government body, they might have such a thing planned and would answer your question if asked.”

Danny wouldn’t put it past the Navy to cold-cock Steve like this, especially after his unauthorized jaunt into the Middle East. But Steve had too many connections, and Danny didn’t doubt one of them would reach out and warn him about something so vital. Hell, even Joe White, the personification of hypocrisy, would have at least given Steve a call. 

No. Like always, there was something more. 

Danny's heart ached. Because he knew Steve. “Or maybe the question is—do you want to stay in the Navy after all this time?”

Steve flashed Danny the most painful expression of self-doubt.

Sometimes being right really sucked.

***

Danny wrote his report, wrote most of Steve's report, ordered and ate Chinese take-out. Kono came by around six while he considered another game of solitaire on his laptop. 

“You know he won't talk until he's ready.”

“Which will be when the zombie apocalypse takes place.”

Kono parked a hip on the edge of his desk. “Do you really think he's been having doubts about the Navy?”

Danny stared at the closed blinds to Steve's office; annoyed he hadn't developed X-ray vision. “I dunno. I mean. Who really knows the number of demons he's buried.”

“And that's always been a part of his job. One he's excelled at.”

He looked at her fondly, wondering at the special bond the two of them shared from Steve teaching to be a sniper. It was a special connection. A unique type of intimacy. 

“There's a difference at excelling in military tactics and being a crazy ninja and doing the Navy's bidding despite the emotional cost.”

“Why now though? Steve has always screamed career Navy. The only reason he went into the reserves was because of the murder of his father.”

Danny shook his head ruefully. “And the man responsible for that just recently scrambled Steve's head while calling Doris McGarrett their mother.”

If only he could bring Wo Fat back to life so he could put another bullet between his eyes. 

“You think this has to do more with...” 

“It has more to do with a hell of a lot of psychological wounds treated with duct tape. Or maybe it has to do more with just common uncertainty.” Danny looked over at Kono, completely at a loss. 

She gave him a wan smile. "His dad's killer is dead but it hasn't brought him any closure. If anything, it's only brought more questions. Ones that if he confronts Doris about, are guaranteed to bring more pain.”

“Avoidance maybe?”

Kono shrugged her shoulders. “Some of it. Or maybe a trigger. He's got a lot of baggage and now this big thing is about to happen, probably reminding him of stuff that occurred over five years ago.”

Danny sighed. Nothing in life was ever black and white. “You know you're pretty damn wise for someone so young.”

“Yeah, well, there's never a dull moment around here.” Kono gave his shoulder a light punch. “Go on; go in there.”

Danny peered over at the office and gave himself a mental count of ten before walking over.

***

Once Danny walked into Steve's office it only took three seconds before Steve tried brushing him off. 

“Look, Danny. I've got a lot of work to do including the department budget.”

“Really? So if I were to walk behind the desk and look at your laptop, I'd see spreadsheets about our ridiculous expense reports instead of one of those flight sims?”

“Danny...”

“Steve, do me a favor and don't talk unless it's to answer a question. Good,” Danny said not giving Steve a chance to argue. “Now we're on the same page.” He scanned the office until he found the object of his search, pointing at a frame on the wall. “What's that hanging over here?” 

Steve glared at him, his voice low and rough. “Don't.”

“Answer the question.”

Steve geared up for a verbal sparring match, biting his lip, crossing those damn arms, but Danny could cross his arms too, willing to go titan to titan. 

Steve must have sensed his tenacity, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “They're my ribbons,”

Danny pointed at one randomly in the middle. “Which is this one?”

“Are we really doing this?”

“Humor me.”

“The Afghanistan Campaign Medal.”

“And these three things attached to it?”

“Three bronze clusters. They represent the time of duty I served.”

Three deployments? How long had those lasted exactly? Could they even be turned down or did Steve blindly follow wherever he was told. 

“And the one next to it?”

Steve's voice was neutral. “Iraq Campaign Medal.”

“With two bronze clusters.” Possibly two more tours. Danny didn't know how many years Steve served in the desert, but on five different occasions he'd gone out doing things only the most skilled were allowed to. “I count twelve, thirteen, wow...” He counted the rest under his breath. “Seventeen medals. And even I know this one is the Purple Heart. This, of course, means you were injured while doing something ridiculously dangerous. Not surprising.”

“This isn't helping.”

“I'm not going to pretend to know the meaning behind all of these, but I'm guessing these two are the most prestigious, and based on the shapes, they're a bronze and silver star?”

Steve said nothing so Danny took it upon himself to speak instead. “No one joins the military or the police force to earn medals. But they mean more than just being good at your job. They represent passion. Excellence.”

“At being a killing machine, right?” Steve glared at him. “Your words.”

“Yeah. But how many times has either of us had to take a life to save another? You just did most of your job on foreign soil.” 

Steve didn’t say anything; he simply stared. Danny could see the wheels turning, though.

“Steve. The Navy's always been a part of your life. It's filled a hole inside of here,” Danny said tapping his own heart. “Fulfilled the role of family; provided a purpose.” He moved around the desk until he stood in front of Steve. “It's a part of you. It always will be, even when you decide to move on from it _permanently._ ” 

“But it's not your whole life anymore,” Danny continued, trying, hoping to reach him. “It hasn't been since the day we've met.”

“I know that,” Steve said tersely. 

“Do you?” Danny was met with another unsure expression, and he sighed, inching closer, resisting the urge to grab Steve by the shoulders. “If the Navy came here and asked you to join a mission, would you?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in Steve's answer but he was too keyed up to recognize it. 

“But if they never came by to activate a four year reservist, you wouldn't exactly lose sleep at night.” It wasn't a question, and Steve stared at Danny like he wanted to argue but knew it was a lost cause, that Danny was speaking the hard truth.

“You've always been willing to serve if called upon, but you haven't lately, and that's been okay because you've been doing a pretty damn good job protecting the people of Hawaii.”

This time Danny squeezed Steve's arm. “Every crossroad can be a scary place. Even for a bad ass Navy SEAL. But a part of me wonders if that's what's really bothering you. If maybe it's just the easiest thing to point the finger at.”

Steve looked so confused, as if Danny were speaking in another language, and maybe for the big lug he was. Danny shook his head. Steve had what equated to a million dollars worth of training, but he was so inadequately prepared for some of life's basic challenges. Danny knew Steve hated feeling such vulnerability, but it made Danny's chest ache at his sheer innocence. 

“Steven, you've had a rough couple of months—hell, a rough couple of years.”

“Who hasn't?” Steve growled, eyes flashing dangerously. “We've all have been through hell and back. And I don't see what this has to do with—”

“It has to do with finding solid ground where it doesn't seem to exist. It has to do with being knocked down time and time again and each time it's a little harder to get back up again, but you do, you brush yourself off and push your way through, burying every memory, every perceived failure deep inside just so you can get through the day again.”

Danny felt his chest heave with every rapid breath, his brow hot with sweat. 

Steve's harsh expression softened, the tension in body lessening as he stepped closer, his voice laced with concern. “I think you might be talking a little from experience, buddy.”

The pain in Danny's chest was horrible, the sharp claws of remorse digging deeper. It made him feel like cheap clay. “Maybe I do, but that only makes me an expert. And as an authority on the matter, I can safely say I don't think this has to do with you questioning if you want to be in the Navy and more to do with the fear that they may, and I mean may, ask you to retire, even if you know deep down that's highly unlikely. So instead you've got all these doubts as some sort of self protection.”

“Is that right, Sigmund Freud?”

“Look around your office, Steven. There isn't a wall that doesn't have something to do with your time in the Navy. It surrounds you every day.”

Steve looked from the plaque commemorating Pearl Harbor, to the model ships on the table, to his medals, his breathing heavier as if he could control the emotions bearing down on him.

“You don't think you can afford to have something else taken away from you.” Danny wet his lips. “But even if you did, and I mean it's a big if, you'd survive it. Because you're not alone. You haven't been the last few years.”

Danny carefully brushed his hand down Steve's bicep, over the scar hidden beneath the thin t-shirt. He wished he could do more, offer what was deep in his heart, but keenly aware this wasn’t the time or place. He cleared his throat as it tightened. “Some things take longer time to heal than we think. It's only been a few weeks since—”

“We're not talking about that.”

Steve had not mentioned anything about the torture since his release from the hospital. It was like the 'T' word was off limits.

“This isn't about surviving on an island on bread and water or keeping national secrets while someone beats the living hell out of you. It's about...”

“Moving on, Danny.”

“Attending three mandatory meetings with the shrink and passing your psyche eval is not moving on. It's about jumping the correct amount of hoops, smiling when needed, when all the while you've buried everything about that day behind those damn walls again.”

Steve's nostrils flared. “I've been fine.”

“No, you've _acted_ fine. There's a difference.” 

Steve shook his head. “Maybe I've had some off days. It hasn't affected work.”

Danny wanted to yell, but screaming at Steve wouldn't help him. Even if it was a reflection on how much Danny cared. 

He softened his voice, trying to deescalate things. “Ignoring stuff while on the job does not make your issues disappear. And babe, don't you think it’s possible that being drugged by practically a pharmacy of chemicals could still have an effect on you weeks later? That maybe your brain needs time to return to normal after being overdosed?”

Steve stared at Danny, looking like he’d just been sideswiped, his jaw dropping before snapping closed again. He stared past Danny, eyes deeply focused somewhere off in the distance. 

Swallowing, Steve licked his lips, his voice like gravel when he said, “I killed him. Wo Fat. He's dead...He's dead.” 

But killing the SOB wouldn't fix what Steve's mother broke over twenty years ago. Because putting a bullet in Reyes’ head hadn't done a damn thing to ease the pain of Matty's death. It haunted Danny every time he closed his eyes at night. He still smelled that bunker, the spilled blood, and saw the image of his brother in that oil drum.

The grim reality was the persistent hollowness and sleepless nights waking up in sweat. When he looked up at Steve he saw the same naked pain reflected in his eyes.

Danny was lost for words for once, transfixed by the sheer blueness of Steve's eyes, at the still fading scar on his temple from Wo Fat's bullet. He desperately wanted to hug the man before him. “Wo Fat may be dead, but healing takes time. And all of this,” he said, gesturing in Steve's direction, his voice going sad and fond. “This took a while to mess up.”

Steve released a long breath. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“But that's when you lean on your ohana, isn't it?” Danny didn't wait for Steve to answer, sparing him any more exposure. It was time to get out of here. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat. And after we have a good dinner, you're going to make plans about this ceremony thing and you're going to call your vet buddy in the morning and apologize for having the emotional skills of a turnip.”

Steve didn't say anything, but this time, it was perfectly fine by Danny as he followed him out the door. 

***

Danny tossed and turned that night, images of Matty climbing the stairs into his airplane swallowed up by explosions and gunfire. Danny bolted awake, breath caught in his throat. God it hurt so much. He'd never see Matt again. Never hear his voice or his dumb laugh. If he'd done a dozen different things, anything at all, it might have prevented him from having to bring the remains of his brother home to his parents. 

Wiping his hands over his sweat-slicked face, he heard his own words from earlier. _“Healing takes time, babe.”_

He laughed bitterly. Maybe he shouldn't offer advice he ignored. 

Staring at the ceiling did nothing to lull him back to sleep, and he listened to the sounds of stillness. For a split second he had the urge to pick up the phone and call Steve, find out if he was lying in the dark too, torturing himself with what-ifs and soul-eating regret. 

He grabbed his cell off the nightstand, rubbing his thumb up and down the front cover. And did nothing.

Steve might have had the communication skills of a wall, but Danny wasn't doing much better in that department at the moment. 

 

***

“So, you called them, right?” Danny asked as soon as Steve opened the door to the Camaro and climbed in the driver's side. “Because there's no excuse for you not to, given the fact I'm sure office hours for the Navy begin at the crack of dawn.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“First off, don't answer a question with another question, secondly—”

“Because you don't look like you did.” Steve did that thing where he lowered his voice and his eyes filled with worry. It was a sensitive, caring side most rarely witnessed. “Talk to me, man.”

But Danny couldn't, not right now. “Steve, do not test my patience this morning.”

Steve frowned, looking like he wanted to press Danny, but he relented, obviously reading Danny's need. 

“Yeah, I called,” Steve said, putting on his seat belt. “Ceremony's next week.”

“Next week? Isn't that a little quick for the full pomp and circumstance? Or did you pull some modest, I don't want the ticker tape parade and the full brass band for—”

“The Secretary of the Navy will be in town for an Asian-Pacific naval conference. So...”

Danny whistled. “Wow, babe.” He had thought some admiral, but the damn Secretary of the Navy. Of course Steve didn't react. “Oh, I forgot, you've already rubbed elbows with the president so the Navy's top dog doesn’t impress you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his shoulders were rigid, so yeah, this was a big deal. They needed a distraction. Something simple, ordinary. 

“You know what you need? A haircut before your big day.”

Before Steve could protest, Danny was already calling Steve's barber. And what did it say about his life that he knew the guy's name already when he grabbed Steve's phone to find it?

 

*** 

Danny had to admit it, Odell really knew his way around hair; the man took pride in every snip of his scissors. All the lines in Steve's body slowly ebbed into the chair. His fingers gradually uncurled, his long legs relaxed, and his feet tilted to the sides. It was a rare image. And it shouldn't have been. 

Danny sat in the opposite barber's chair reading the paper. Odell stepped back and admired his handiwork. He set his scissors back on the tray and pulled out a steaming towel, twisting the cloth of excess water. 

“Okay, now don't worry about a thing and enjoy the warmth,” Odell said cheerily, readying the towel. Steve opened an eye and sat up straighter, glaring at Odell like he might rip him limb from limb. Odell paused. “Everything cool?”

Danny peered over his paper, going for subtle. Odell didn't move an inch, but he didn't seem overly concerned, just pragmatic about having a Navy SEAL go from laid-back to glaring lethally. Danny, on the other hand, still had parts of Steve's After Action Report from Wo Fat's abduction memorized. 

After a long moment, Steve slowly relaxed, his shoulders slowly resting against the leather. “No, it's fine,” he said. 

“Hey, no problem.” Odell lowered the towel. “We can skip the shave if you want.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, biting his lip. He wiped a hand over his face. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Translation,” Danny said, providing distraction. “He's been sitting there obsessing over the fact you're going to use some flimsy straight razor on his face and not the uber, crazy, scary as hell knife he keeps hidden on his ankle holster.”

“Hey now, I sharpen my razor on a block of the finest thousand grit stone.” Odell pulled out a razor and held it up to the sunlight. “You're not gonna see a finer blade than mine.”

“I don't know—is it black?” Danny asked.

“Doesn't that make it harder to see?”

“Exactly the point,” Steve said with an easy casualness to his voice. “It doesn't reflect sunlight.”

Odell actually smiled. “I bet you're one scary dude to the bad guys, Commander. But consider my shop a sanctuary from the outside world. You can just be you. So please, sit back, and don't think about a thing.”

Steve eased into the chair, but it seemed more forced than a few minutes before. He slowly closed his eyes, and appeared to train himself to stillness. Steve was in stand down. Danny sighed, wondering how many of these types of moments he'd missed the last few weeks. How many had Steve kept hidden? 

Odell started to wrap the towel around Steve's face, his eyes flicking in Danny's direction, giving him a tight smile. Danny grabbed his paper to distract himself from too many racing thoughts, and started flipping the pages randomly.

When Odell pulled away the towel to begin the shave, Danny averted his gaze, and found the write-up on the Silver Star ceremony. 

_In a ceremony that will be attended by members of Pearl Harbor-Hickman Naval Base and special operations communities, Secretary of the Navy, Ray Mabus will award Lt. Commander Steven J. McGarrett, a Navy SEAL, the Silver Star medal, the U.S. military's third-highest award for valor. Commander McGarrett will be honored for his actions in Afghanistan on June 5th, 2007, where he served alongside Marines from Fort Bragg. Lt. Commander McGarrett –_

He stopped reading, closing his eyes to the words. He didn't need to read anymore. Because he could picture Steve leading a team across some war-torn part of the world just as easily as he did with Five-O during a warehouse raid or during a hostage situation. It was the fabric of his being, whether he was in the Navy or not.

“Yo, Williams. You okay?”

Danny snapped his head up. “What?”

Odell folded the straight razor while Steve sat up in his chair. They were done already. “You kind of spaced out on us, dude.”

“Oh.” Danny's eyes flicked toward Steve. “I was just thinking about something.” He let his words linger before clearing his throat. “You spruced him up nicely,” he said to Odell, gesturing at Steve. “The press will trip all over themselves to snag a pic of you babe.”

Steve's jaw twitched. He hopped out of the chair, not acknowledging the compliment, and rubbed his hands over his sideburns. He nodded at Odell, opened his wallet and paid him . “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” He looked over at Danny. “We should go.”

“Sure.” Danny grabbed the paper, because someone should save the article. 

***

Danny enjoyed pub food. Give him fish and chips and a beer in a frosty mug and he was in heaven. It reminded him of home. He closed his eyes against the memory of his brother's chuckle. The real sound of laughter brought him out of his somber thoughts, and he looked over at Ed McKay, the old sailor who'd been keeping everyone entertained with stories of life during a golden age. 

“...and then the LT made us swab the deck with toothbrushes,” McKay said with a belly rumble.

Chin and Kono smiled, and Grover tried to keep from spraying beer everywhere by covering his mouth with his hand. Danny had only half paid attention to the tale, but he grinned politely. He caught Steve staring at him while everyone chatted. Danny swirled his sweating glass, meeting Steve's gaze and letting him know wordlessly to let it go.

The ends of Steve's mouth tightened, letting Danny know he wasn't happy, but he'd do it. 

It wasn't until Danny had finished his drink that he noticed conversation around the table had died. Chin took a long swallow of beer while McKay dug into his steak vigorously with his knife. Steve had sat back in his chair, but he kept glancing in Danny's direction, worried. 

“I read in the paper this medal was for something that happened almost six years ago,” Kono said, breaking the silence. “What was with the wait?”

“A recommendation has to made, reports filed, eye-witness statements taken.” Steve shook his head. “There are criteria that need to be evaluated and met.”

Kono's eyes widened. “And it takes years?”

“This particular op was classified until now so it took longer. “

“Wait,” Kono said, her beer inches away from her lips. “Are there medals that you've been awarded that we don't know about?”

Steve picked at his food with his fork. “I can't say.”

Grover gave Steve an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

“Military awards are classified if the defense department thinks it could compromise national security.” McKay looked around the table. “One of my grand kids is a naval pararescue jumper. He wears a purple heart for something he can't talk about.”

“That kind of sucks man,” Grover said. 

McKay shrugged. “It's the Navy’s policy to make sure all awards are represented in our permanent record, even the classified ones.”

“Why did it become unclassified?” 

Kono's curiosity was a powerful force; it wouldn't be tamed. Steve apparently knew this, because he didn’t try to dodge and weave as he considered her question. “I was part of a two-man SEAL team preparing for a different mission at the time. We were working in a remote area with very little support when we were called in to help extract a Marine recon unit that'd been overrun by an insurgent force. It was the nature of my original mission that was classified.”

Danny shook his head at Steve and his super-secret life. “Well that was as clear as mud.”

Steve ignored him and looked back over at Kono. “We were hunting a key Taliban leader on the border of Pakistan and at the time, that type of thing was considered very sensitive.”

“Ah,” Danny hummed. “Yeah, I guess traipsing around a sovereign country without their permission might annoy them.” Steve glared at him. “But I guess it was a good thing you were in the area?”

“Yeah.” Steve took a sip of his beer. “The fighting was... fierce.” He stared at the bottom of his glass. “My buddy Freddie was with me. He was the key to the success of the mission. If it wasn't for him...”

Grover looked over at Steve in sympathy. Then he glanced over at Danny, both of them aware of the guilt Steve still harbored over the man's death and the lengths he'd gone through to bring Freddie's remains home. 

Steve shook his head, oblivious to the worry around him. He cleared his throat. “Rear Admiral Johnson informed me that Freddie's getting a bronze start posthumously. The ceremony's going to be held in his hometown next month.”

A silence settled heavily over the group. 

“I think we all need another round,” McKay announced. 

The older man nodded at Danny as he waved down their server, who immediately refilled everyone's glasses. The ceremony was in two days; a night out with friends was a good way to spend the time. 

“To the big Kahuna,” Chin said, raising a fresh a glass. “And to every koa who's protected us.” 

McKay raised a glass in tribute, Steve matching him. Danny grabbed his mug and clanked the glass to Steve's, holding it there as Kono followed suit, Grover bringing his in last, all six glasses tilted against each other. 

***

Steve always carried an air of authority about him; it was natural in his stance and the stiff way he held his shoulders, in how he surveyed a room, picking out exits, and identified threats. Danny had seen him in dress blues before, but not the whites; they were pristine. The man always exuded confidence, and the uniform naturally amplified this, but the way Steve wore his commanded serious respect. 

Danny watched Steve from the driver side of the Camaro as he strode over in perfect pace. “Should I wait for some convoy or escort before we leave?”

Steve took his time getting inside, fastening his seat belt, and ensuring the shoulder strap didn’t put a crease in his immaculate jacket. His cap he carefully cradled on his lap. “No, I dismissed them an hour ago.”

It took a second for Steve's words to register. He wanted Danny to drive him. To one of the biggest military ceremonies this year. “Sure. No problem. You want to stop at McDonalds for breakfast?”

The look of outrage on Steve's face was priceless. Danny smirked. “To Pearl we go.”

 

***

Security. Traffic. Rows of waving flags. It was surreal. Good thing Danny was with the guy at the center of the spotlight or he'd feel swallowed up by the prestige of it all. Steve stood tall among the spectacle, his face neutral, his white-gloved hands curled by his sides. 

Danny adjusted his tie and brushed his hands down his jacket and carefully pressed slacks of his Class A dress uniform. He felt pride in his blues and it was nice to wear them for celebratory reasons. 

His eyes darted between Steve and the line of military personnel, and Danny wondered why Steve wasn't walking toward the stage. But Steve wasn't paying attention to the pomp and circumstance in front of them. His eyes were focused on the assembled crowd of military uniforms, families, and supporting visitors. He scanned each row and the people off to the sides.

Steve was re-conning everyone gathered, but for who? Then it dawned on Danny, heavy and painful. What two people would anyone want to see on such an important day? But Doris was nowhere to be seen, and to Danny's surprise, neither was Joe. Those two were sources of pain that kept on giving. 

He couldn't help it; Danny gave Steve's arm a squeeze. “Everyone's at the end of the left row,” he said, pointing. True to his word, Kono sat next to Chin and Grover. Jerry fiddled in his seat next to them. Max, Duke, Kamekona and Flippa were in the row behind them, along with several members of the HPD. And on the far right of the stage, Governor Denning and his entourage had arrived, filling in the seats of dignitaries. It was an amazing display of pride and support. 

Steve looked over at his friends with a humble expression, the ends of lips ticking upward in a smile when his gaze settled on Danny. 

Danny played with one of the buttons of his jacket as Steve continued to look at him in admiration. It was the most unsubtle thing ever. “Like what you see, Steven?”

“Yeah, I do. You should wear your uniform more often.”

Danny was taken back and he cleared his throat, trying to think of a reply. Steve was still watching him intently when Danny noticed the blur of a colorful sundress. “Look who's running a little late,” he said with a grin.

Steve's expression broke into surprise just as Mary rushed up one of the aisles and took an empty seat at one of the ends. She glanced up and waved at them. 

“Mare said her babysitter had canceled on her.”

“Guess she found a new one.” Danny smacked him lightly against the arm. “Now wave back.”

Steve held up his hand, and Danny shook his head at the etiquette lessons that were bestowed upon him to teach. “Just promise me a six pack of Longboards when everything’s over.”

“Not only that, but I'll splurge on the good bourbon.”

Danny snorted. “Like you carry your wallet in that get-up. Come on now, let’s get this show on the road, babe.”

“Roger that.”

***

 

Danny remembered a cold December day in Jersey; it'd been windy as hell with six inches of snow on the ground. He'd worn both wool underwear and socks. But even that hellish winter day didn't prevent two hundred boys in blue and a hundred more from surrounding states from attending the funeral of a fallen patrolman. Thankfully today was not one for mourning, but for honoring heroism. The naval family of Pearl-Hickman was out in force to support one of their own, with polite applause after two songs from the Pacific Fleet band, then Rear Admiral Johnson’s speech, before the introduction of the SECNAV.

Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus was shorter than Danny imagined, but he spoke eloquently during his opening remarks, which he kept brief before moving on to his main focus. 

“On Nov. 14, 2007, Lt Steve McGarrett and his fellow SEAL, Lt Freddie Hart, flew into a remote part of the Badakhshan Province to provide back-up to a pinned down Marine Unit, when they were engulfed in a firestorm,” the SECNAV began. 

“Bullets buzzed and rockets exploded around them as they descended 40 feet by cable from a hovering helicopter.

"On the ground, Lt McGarrett found the Marine unit surrounded and outgunned, and the number of wounded much higher than he’d been briefed. The helicopter quickly spent its ammunition and left the area to rearm, leaving the two-man SEAL Team behind. 

"McGarrett took over command of the fight for four intense hours,” Mabus continued. “They called in close strikes to push back the enemy while they scrambled to help the injured and organize the evacuation.

"After an explosion killed the Marine Unit's CO, Captain Brink, McGarrett, Hart, and the remaining six Marines faced sporadic enemy fire, including rounds fired by hidden snipers from more than 70 enemy fighters. However, as they descended a mountain, their only means of escape, the fighting escalated.”

The SECNAV took a breath, and Danny found himself holding his along with him.

“McGarrett led a charge down the mountainside while Hart carried the body of Captain Brink on his back so he wasn't left behind.

"During the course of the three-hour flight, McGarrett repeatedly risked his life, while covering Hart as he protected Captain Brink's body. McGarrett took the lead position, repeatedly exposing himself to enemy fire during the treacherous journey back to the unit’s convoy.

"Throughout their perilous descent, Lt McGarrett again and again placed himself between Lt Hart and the threat of the voluminous enemy fire.

"As the men neared the bottom of the mountain, Hart struggled to keep Captain Brink on his back after hours of fighting. McGarrett raced back to Hart, providing cover fire, again exposing himself to enemy rounds. After helping reload the body on Hart’s back, McGarrett then ran directly through enemy fire across 100 meters of open terrain to reach a group of Afghan counterparts. 

"Finally, the Afghan soldiers helped escort the remaining Marine unit, McGarrett, and Hart to cover, until the extraction team was able to transport them to safety.

"For leadership, conspicuous gallantry, and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, I award the silver star to Lt Commander Steven J. McGarrett.”

Steve stood in a single fluid motion, shoulders squared as he strode toward the podium. He held himself in a beautiful line as Mabus pinned the new medal to Steve's chest then shook his hand. 

“Thank you for your service, Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The assembled crowd rose from their seats and clapped. Steve's face was unreadable, but Danny knew while he appreciated the sentiment, he'd would have preferred this whole thing been done on paper. But Steve did his duty like he always did. 

Danny chatted with his team, commenting on how blessedly quick the ceremony had been with Kono and Mary. Kono remarked on the number of local politicians in line to have their picture taken with Steve. 

Grover tugged at his tie. “Do you want to eat some of those mini sandwich things?” 

At the mention of food Kamekona looked over at the tables stacked with platters of appetizers. Max hmmmed speculatively. 

Chin walked toward Danny while most of the crowd dispersed in different directions. “You coming with?”

Kono stood next to them, the team hovering. Although the speeches had been succinct between the drive, security, and waiting around, the promise of lunch was temping. Danny looked over at Mr. Popularity, who hadn't even moved from the stage, high-ranking naval types replacing the politicians.

He noticed a mother and son hanging back, waiting patiently at a respectful distance. The middle-aged woman had a hand on the younger man's arm. He couldn’t be older than fourteen or fifteen. 

“I think I'll stick around. See if he wants to escape after he's done.”

Danny knew it could be a while, but he felt compelled to wait. Chin seemed to sense his need, simply accepting things without comment. Kono gave his shoulder a squeeze, the two of them wandering toward everyone else who had left to go eat, the team, their ohana.

Mary lingered last, eyes darting between her brother and Danny. “I've never tried to know too much about what he did over there. I mean, I watched the news sometimes. I knew it was seriously dangerous and he was a bad ass and everything.” She lowered her voice when someone walked by. “Is it wrong that I'm glad he's not doing it anymore?”

“No. No, it's not.”

She laughed. “Not that you guys don't almost blow up the islands all the time.” Mary glanced at Steve and the dwindling crowd around him and rolled her eyes. “I'm going to grab some food. I'm starving.”

Danny wiped the sweat on his brow, wishing for some water. He looked back and saw McKay was one of the last men on the stage, dressed in a suit and his naval cap. He held out his hand to Steve who took it firmly before the older man brought Steve in for a hug. It was filled with warmth and pride and Steve closed his eyes, holding onto the embrace for several long beats. It ripped Danny’s heart out to see a void in Steve's life filled on such a subconscious level. Unlike a certain father figure, McKay's affection didn't come with strings attached. 

Steve took the eight steps down from the stage, and was heading toward Danny when the mother and son hesitantly walked over. 

“Commander McGarrett? 

“Yes, ma'am?”

The woman squeezed her son's shoulders. “We're sorry to bother you, but my name is Helen Brink and this is my son, Tim.”

Steve froze.

“My husband was Captain Brink.”

“Mrs. Brink... I'm...I'm so sorry for your loss.” Even years later, Steve's voice broke with regret.

“On behalf of my family, I wanted to thank you for what you did to ensure that my husband came home.”

Steve swallowed, nodding. “I wish we could have gotten there sooner.”

“You fulfilled your mission Commander, and my husband did whatever he could to complete his.”

The son cleared his throat. “Thank you for what you did to protect my father. If it wasn't for you and Lt Commander Hart, I wouldn't be able to visit the cemetery and talk to him.”

How old had Steve been when he'd thought his mother had died? How old was Tim when his father died thousands of miles away? 

“As soon as we heard about the ceremony we knew we had to come,” she said, and Steve looked shell-shocked. “We're making the rest of it a vacation, but we would not pass up a way to honor Jim.” She bit her bottom lip. “I was wondering...my niece is getting married next month and we won't be able to attend Commander's Hart's ceremony. I have this letter for his family...”

Steve took the envelope in his gloved hand. “I'll make sure they get it.”

“Thank you. You and Commander Hart gave us a path to closure and we'll be forever grateful.” Mrs. Brink's face sank in relief, her demeanor less anxious. She glanced over at the tent. “We'll leave you to your friends. Thank you again, Commander. For everything.”

“Of course.” Steve stood. “Will you be here for the rest of the week?”

“We're going to play tourist, and Tim is going to visit the University of Hawaii.”

Tim looked up at Steve's inquisitive face. “I'm a marine biologist major. Civilian, not military. There are plenty of things to protect in the world.”

“I think the world could use more people like you.”

The teen accepted the praise with enthusiasm. “Thank you, sir.”

Mrs. Brink gave Steve a grateful smile, a whirlwind of other emotions reflected in her eyes. She reached over and gave him a quick hug before quickly ushering her son along. 

Danny stood beside Steve, and when he didn't budge, he took Steve's arm, guiding him toward their waiting friends. 

Kono stepped toward Steve, hugging him around the shoulders and whispering something in his ear. Danny caught bits of Hawaiian. Steve smiled in gratitude and bowed his head, resting his cheek against hers.

“Brah,” Kamekona said, cutting in without realizing it. “That was some story. Like something in the movies.”

Kono stepped away, allowing both cousins over. 

Flippa nodded, looking a little in awe. “Yeah. You should sell the rights to Hollywood.”

“Thanks, but I think I'm good,” Steve replied.

Chin shook his head in bemusement at the pair before walking over, his expression growing more serious. “What you did was courageous. Don't ever doubt that. Your dad would have been proud of you.” 

At the mention of his dad, Steve kept his composure, but Danny caught the slight inhale of breath, how he held it to remain perfectly composed. But Chin was a perceptive man, and he grabbed Steve's bicep, keeping his hand there until Steve relaxed under the comforting gesture. 

“You really clean up nice.” Mary raised an eyebrow in admiration, breaking-up the somber mood with her playfulness. “You should do a calendar or something.”

“Danno's already got that department covered,” Steve told her with a smirk. He rested both his hands on her shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

“We've missed a lot of moments in each others' lives; I didn't want to miss this.”

Steve's face betrayed how much her words meant to him, and he drew Mary in close, hugging her. 

Danny tried to give them some privacy by pouring himself a glass of water. By the time he was done drinking it, brother and sister had parted, Mary's mascara running down her cheeks. 

Steve took a moment and removed his cap. He stared at the emblem sewn the front of it, his face shadowed with thought. 

Max walked over. “Commander?”

Steve tucked the cap to his side, plastering on a neutral expression.

“I just wanted to say, it is always an honor,” Max told him.

Steve didn't have time to say thank you before Max moved away as others followed on his heels. Jerry engulfed him in a bear-hug, then Duke came over and shook Steve's hand, followed by a couple other HPD officers who had been in the crowd. Lou hung back during it all, waiting until Steve stood alone for a few moments. 

“You okay?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Danny knew the two men had bonded on some level, sharing painful experiences. Steve had confided in Lou about things, about Freddie. Today was bound to be minefield of emotion and open wounds. Danny was glad Steve had all this back-up.

“I'm...” Steve paused. “I'll be better when this is over.”

“Then I think you should have one of these sandwich things and exit stage left.”

“I can't just leave.”

“No, I think you can,” Lou insisted. “You've fulfilled your duty. Time to head to shore.”

“Couldn't have said it better myself,” Danny said, interjecting at the perfect time. 

Steve looked ready to object, but his family knew better. Kono moved next to Steve, Chin took his other side. Danny quirked an eyebrow, signifying that Steve had no say. And Mary crossed her arms and stared her brother down.

“Come on; let's go sailor,” Danny ordered.

Steve smiled at him, his expression amused and maybe a little fond. Danny ignored him, ignored the swirling emotion in chest, and everyone else who seemed equally warm at his words.

 

***

It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for everyone to regroup at the McGarrett family home after an outing, but that wasn't the case this time. Space was the needed prescription. 

Danny changed into shorts and a t-shirt while Steve hit the shower. Coffee was next on the agenda, or maybe tea. When he heard Steve come down the stairs and go straight toward the lanai, Danny skipped the mugs and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. 

He took his time as he wandered toward the beach, finding Steve standing next to one of the wooden chairs in boardies and a faded Navy shirt, his focus on the lapping waves.

Danny stood beside him, handing him a beer. “Wha’cha thinking? And don't tell me nothing.”

Steve didn't look up, his voice heavy. “I was thinking that I got a medal for ensuring someone I didn't know made it back home while I left my best pal...”

“Steve...don't.” 

Steve swallowed down half the bottle before setting it on the small table by the chair. He still didn't look at Danny. “Captain Brinks deserved every effort we did for him that day. I'd do it again, no question. But Freddie...”

“Different mission; different circumstances.”

“And I keep telling myself that over and over again.” 

It hurt Danny to the core. He had to fix this—fix Steve—or at least try. “The only thing we can do is live with the choices we make and try to make better ones as each day goes by.” He moved close enough to see the moisture building in Steve's eyes, his own heart breaking. “But most importantly, we need to learn to forgive ourselves when life makes it hard.”

Steve swallowed. “Damn it. I know that. I've given the same speech you're giving me to others.”

“But it doesn't change how we feel.” Danny knew neither of them were strangers to this. “You made a difference in two people's lives and their families’ lives. That counts. _You_ count.”

Steve took a moment to collect himself a little. He finally looked over at Danny. “Admiral Johnson told me I'm not in-the-zone for a promotion given my time as a Lt Commander and my reserve status. He confirmed I have two years left before I either get promoted or get passed over and have to retire.”

“So, this wasn't a bait and switch?”

“No. But it could have been.”

Steve was career Navy; he had all these rules memorized even if he hadn't been actively tracking his career. It spoke volumes about Steve's recent state of mind of late. 

“Guess you'll have more time to think it over.” 

“I don't need to,” Steve said with more conviction than he'd displayed the last few minutes. “When the time comes, I know what I'll do with no regrets.”

“Yeah?”

“I love the Navy and I loved serving my country. But...” Danny waited for Steve to complete his thought, not pushing in with his own. “I never thought I'd ever be ready to leave the teams behind, but I realized that I'd already had.” He gave Danny a half smile. “Four years ago in my father's garage. And it wasn't until today that I realized I was okay with it.”

Danny was taken away by Steve's admission. “Wow. That's, um...that's a huge realization.”

“My ohana helped me figure it out. They're the ones who have always been there for me over the last few years.”

“That's what family's for. To see us through the good and the bad.” He rested a hand on Steve's shoulder. “No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Steve repeated. 

A heavy silence settled between them and Steve cleared his throat. “I've been thinking about some stuff, and I'm taking a short leave of absence. More like a long vacation.” 

Danny felt his chest tighten, spider webs of tension wrapping around his muscles. “When?”

“As soon as we clear up our current caseload. I'll take a few weeks. Get my head together.”

“Where are you going?”

“San Jose to start. I'm going to attend Freddie's ceremony. After that, I'm not sure. Someplace quiet. Maybe somewhere I've never been. Which isn't a lot of places,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm. 

Maybe attending Freddie’s ceremony would help close old wounds.

“I heard Maine's nice this time of year,” Danny found himself blurting. Where had all his carefully constructed filters gone? 

“Maine? Over two thousand miles away.”

“Why not? I have a lot of time off accumulated, almost as much as yours. Could be a fun road trip.” 

Steve's face looked beautiful during sunset, even when it was creased in confusion. “You want to come with me?”

“North Korea, Afghanistan, Cambodia.” Danny smiled tightly. “The mainland doesn't even require a covert op. Besides, I may have not known Freddie, but I know how much he means to you. And that's all that matters.”

Steve stared, looking dumbfounded, and Danny wondered how long it would take before the man understood that this was what they did. “Maine's a fun drive from Jersey.” The anxiety in his chest dulled to deep ache. “And I should visit my family again. They were still in too much shock the last time.”

Steve clamped his mouth closed, going from stillness, to sudden motion, wrapping his arms around Danny, encompassing him with such warmth and care. “Wherever you want to go. You hear me? Doesn't matter.”

“I hear you.” Danny nestled his head against Steve's jaw, squeezing him back, relishing the comfort and emotion of it all. “You need this. _We_ need this,” Danny murmured unable to stop himself. 

“Danny...I...” Steve hung onto Danny, latched on like his life depended on it. “I don't...I don't know what I've been doing.”

“I know babe, I know. Maybe...maybe we can both find our way. Together.”

“Danny...”

“You're not the only one wandering around lost.”

“I'm so sorry. I should've...”

“Stop it.” Danny pulled away, keeping his hands around Steve's shoulders. “Don't even start. We've both been through the wringer, but that doesn't mean we can't help each other pick up the pieces.”

“On a road trip.”

“Only if you trade the wheel half the time and allow me to drive.”

“I think I can do that.”

Danny rubbed his hand over Steve's arm and down the fading scar, covering it with his palm, relishing the warmth of Steve's skin. “That's one step already.”

Steve ducked his head in uncertainty. “About us. I don't know how...I mean, I want to...”

“Shhh, shhh.” Danny dug his fingers into Steve's shoulders, pulling him closer. “One step at a time. At whatever pace. From the west to the east coast. I'll be with you, babe.”

Danny felt all the muscles in Steve's back relax as he spoke, his voice rough. “Never doubted it for a second. Never doubted you. It's why I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. I love you too,” Danny said, relishing in the moment, holding onto it. 

***  
fini-

I hang out here: http://thekristen999.tumblr.com/


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